Jarvan woke to the sound of dripping water, the dank, pungent smell of human excrement filling his nostrils as he opened his eyes. He groaned, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head, a lump where he had been struck with the pommel of a sword. He looked about his new accommodations, the rough cut stone walls and moss a testament to the humid air that sat in the cell. There was a chamber pot that sat in the corner, its contents enough to turn Jarvan's stomach with just the smell.

"I'm starting to hate waking up in dark places like this." Jarvan groaned, leaning against the wall behind him, the stone block, which served as a cot, cold as ice.

"Pipe down." A guard grunted from outside the door. Jarvan sighed, sitting back and closing his eyes, willing the pounding headache he had to go away. It didn't help, the smell enough to disturb any meditations or calming breathing he tried. Time drifted slowly by, with nothing to do in the darkness but fiddle his thumbs and formulate inane escape plots. Several plans later, Jarvan was merely growing frustrated. He stood, stretching his neck and back as he did. He was wearing only his trousers, boots and a tunic, the cold rock leaving a print on his back as he stretched his back.

Jarvan sighed as he touched his toes and then stood up, reaching to the low lying ceiling of the prison cell. It was only just out of his reach, but with a small hop he could touch it. Jarvan cracked his neck and spun his torso about, hopping from foot to foot as he did. He settled into a fighting stance, facing the far wall, staying on the balls of his feet as he did. He closed his eyes, imagining that there was a training dummy before him, breathing slowly. He struck out his right hand, the strike as fast as a viper. He truck three more times in quick succession with the right, followed by a low left, a mid left and then a right. He jumped back, bouncing from foot to foot, the motion and exercise helping to clear his mind and pass the time. He ducked and weaved, imagining a flurry of blows being thrown at him, working in strikes occasionally, still moving as much as possible. He sunk low, bringing his fist up, right where he imagined his opponent to be.

"Boxing with shadows?" One of the guards said, smirking as he turned, deciding to check what the commotion was. The open fronted cell, with its heavy iron bars, wouldn't stand up to but so much punishment. Unfortunately, Jarvan had nothing he could use to actually apply said punishment, and the gaps were much too narrow to get anything but an arm through. He could probably strangle one of the guards, but it wouldn't be worth the risk with the other guards around.

"Nightmares make much better opponents." Jarvan said, breathing heavily, working up a sweat. He grunted as he bounced back and forth from foot to foot, shifting his balance back and forth with each motion.

"Hah, you think you can fight a nightmare?" The guard snorted.

"No, but you can strike its head." Jarvan answered matter-of-factually, grinning as the guard stumbled, fumbling his response.

"Is that so?" The guard snapped, grumbling. "I'll keep that in mind next time I'm fighting a nightmare." The guard snorted in disgust, turning away. Jarvan grinned, exhaling as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Ignore 'im, mate." The other guard said, finally shifting against the far wall. "Ain't no way a nightmare could do anything to ya."

Jarvan chuckled, peeling off the rough tunic he was wearing and sitting with his back against the cool stone wall.

"I wouldn't expect you to believe me." Jarvan said, grinning. "I hardly believed it the first time I saw it, myself." He balled the tunic up behind his head, lying down on the stone bench that served as the bed and closed his eyes.

"What do you mean 'the first time I saw it'?" The first guard said, frowning, leaning against the bars.

"He's jus pullin' ya leg." The seconds guard said dismissively, but Jarvan could tell he had them both hooked.

"I don't suppose you know who I am, and I don't know if you'd believe me if I told you..." Jarvan prefaced, trying to hide the amusement in his voice, "But I spent over a year wandering Valoran south of Mogron pass. I saw all manner of creatures, from great beasts to the very things of nightmares coming alive to haunt you while I was there."

"Nightmares... you saw one?" The first guard said, gripping the bars excitedly. Jarvan sat up grinning as he did. He met the man's gaze, the young guard hooked on his tale. He nodded. "What did it look like?"

"It was a beast of swirling darkness and eternal damnation." Jarvan said darkly, lending his voice a huskiness to emphasize his point. "It carried two great blades upon its forearms and could fly, shrouding you in darkness and blacking out the sun as it came. It was unlike any other beast I had ever faced. My men were sent running in terror, leaving me alone to face it down, eye to eye with this gruesome shadow being. Its entire body was wispy and liquid, sinking into the ground and reappearing from any hint of a shadow, striking from any and all sides as if it were nothing but a shadow itself."

Jarvan hid his grin with a dark grimace as the second guard joined his younger fellow, his mouth just barely hanging open. Jarvan slid off the bed, pacing near the bars, putting on a solemn frown, as if he was thinking.

"What happened?" The younger guard said. "It didn't kill you, did it?"

"Obviously naht, ya dolt." The second guard snapped, stepping back from the bars and crossing his arms, trying to hide his interest. "Let him finish."

"I've fought many a creature before, of all shape, sizes and locale..." Jarvan said, continuing to pace. He was continuously growing more animate as he continued the story. "But never had I faced a foe that was made of pure shadow." Jarvan gestured to a gruesome scar along his side, shivering. "He drove his shadow blade into my side and tried to rip me apart, but I managed the knee him in the side of the head." Jarvan said, bringing his knee up in demonstration. "It seemed to stun him just long enough to get the blade out of my side. I was losing blood fast though, the gash in my side was massive."

"How'd you kill it?" The younger guard said, gripping the bars again, his white knuckles showing even in the dim light. The older of the guards was hanging loosely to the bars again, his eyes locked on Jarvan.

"You can't kill a shadow." Jarvan said, grimacing. "Only force it away." Jarvan grinned. "As he reeled from my strike to the neck, I ignited some of the brush, starting a massive fire. With no shadows to hide in, he was forced to face me finally. He reared his blades back, charging in..." Jarvan reached his arms back over his shoulders like he was about to strike. "And..." He reached out, his arm mere blurs. He grabbed each guard by the wrist, throwing himself backwards, pulling the guards with him, their arms fitting through the gaps up to the shoulder, their heads crashing against the bars. Jarvan grinned as they slumped against the bars, dropping slowly to the ground as Jarvan chuckled.

"G'night, boys." He said, bending down and rooting through their contents of the guard's belt pouches. He came away with a key, a water bottle and a dagger, along with a few coins. Jarvan was pleased with himself, glad to see that he could still put his charisma to good use. He was reaching through the bars to unlock the gate when the sound of boots alerted him that he was not alone.

"I would just drop the key, fool." Darius growled, planting a fist on his hip, wiping the sweat from his brow. "You won't get far, even if you were able to get that gate open." Guards followed him into the dungeon, dragging away the two who Jarvan had knocked out, a much larger contingent filling the hallway outside his prison cell.

"Ah, if it isn't old spiky head!" Jarvan said, sitting back on the floor, smiling happily to himself. "How's your brother? I was just entertaining the guards here when they slipped and hit their heads. I was merely searching for some first aid to treat them with when..."

"Enough!" Darius shouted, his voice echoing down the hallway. "I've had enough of your games." He grinned cruelly. "Swain wants you in fighting shape for tomorrow." Jarvan sat up, dropping the mocking attitude immediately, sudden attentive to what the guard had to say.

"Swain is here?" Jarvan hissed.

"Of course, you idiot, this is Noxus." Darius grinned. "Swain is Noxus. He was the one who had you brought here." Jarvan stood, moving to the bars, gripping them with white knuckled fists, his hands trembling with a mixture of fear and rage.

"I want to see him!" Jarvan growled. Darius raised his ax to Jarvan's chin, grinning still.

"In time, you might." He hissed, beginning to turn away.

"I demand it!" Jarvan shouted.

"Like hell!" Darius spat, wheeling about, planting a blow directly on Jarvan's temple with an armored gauntlet. Jarvan crashed backwards, hitting the far stone wall and ending up in a heap on the floor, the world hazy around him, his vision swirling.

"Get in there and strip him of what he has taken." Darius ordered, his voice causing Jarvan's head to pound. He heard the creak of the gate opening and the rustle of guards searching him from head to toe. He was fading in and out of consciousness as the guards took the key, water and other things he had taken. Jarvan grabbed at one of the guards as he retreated, but only managed to pull himself over, ending up sprawled out on the floor.

"Wait..." He groaned. Or at least he thought he did.

"Think of this as pay back, scum." Darius said, raising his boot back next to Jarvan's head. He brought it down on the side of Jarvan's head, casting the prince into darkness.

The descent to find the bar that Shyvana had been directed to had been darker and more dangerous than the fight she had emerged from only hours before. The descent into darkness had sent shivers down Shyvana's body. Word of mouth had already passed through much of the city and the attention had turned on her. While Shyvana herself could pass through a crowd unnoticed, the lance she carried, Jarvan's lance, made her stand out like a sore thumb. Shyvana paused in front of a shabby looking two story structure that had been carved out of the stone. A plaque hanging at the front of the building depicted a flambard blade overlaid on a pair tankards spilling froth down their sides. The wavy blade may not have been 'drunken' but it was definitely wild looking, and the tavern seemed to fit the general locale the old cartman had indicated. The latch on the decrepit old door was heavy, Shyvana had to jerk it free of its resting place before she could open the door.

"No weapons allowed!" The barkeeper shouted as Shyvana stepped down the rough cut steps into the dark pub. She shot him a defiant look, but the barkeep frowned and shook his head. "Leave it at the door or get the fuck out." Shyvana sighed but acquiesced, leaving the heavy weapon at the base of the steps where a rack of other weapons sat. She moved slowly through the thin crowd, scanning faces for her marks, but there was no sign that either of them were amid the other patrons. "If you're looking for trouble…"

Shyvana pulled her hook back, shaking her long braid out as she approached the bar. She slid into an open seat as the other men standing at the heavy oaken surface frowned, backing away from the bar with a growl, their drinks in hand. Shyvana received several dirty looks but they didn't back up the angry gestures and just gave her a wide berth. Several of them retreated to a table, and huddled over, casting glances at her as they did. They spoke in hushed tones, still watching as Shyvana sat at the bar. The bartender leaned in and glared at Shyvana for a few seconds, one eye wide, trying to catch her gaze. Shyvana frowned, wiping the hair from her eyes, sweeping it behind her ear. "Not trouble. Drink?"

"Ahh, okay then." The barkeep said, shaking his head and shrugging. He grabbed a tankard and filled it from a large cask that was set in the wall behind him. The frothy amber liquid splashed onto the bar as the barkeep set it before her. Shyvana paused, looking at the drink with trepidation.

"What's this?" She said, leaning forward and sniffing the brew.

"It's a tankard of mead." The barkeep said matter-of-factly, taking the towel from his shoulder and wiping the spilled alcohol from the bar. "What's it look like?"

"How much?" Shyvana asked, frowning.

"This one's been paid for it seems." The barkeep said, looking out over the bar, setting about polishing a tankard. Shyvana looked over her shoulder, a dirty looking man raising his own tankard, touching the bottom of it to his brow in mock salute. He then proceeded to slip out of his chair, collapsing on the floor. Shyvana turned back to the bar and eyed the barkeep suspiciously, but he merely shrugged. "He likes to buy drinks for newcomers. He seems to think that someday a rich noblewoman who likes balding drunkards will sweep him off his feet." The barkeep snorted. "Till then he tries his luck here. Long as he pays his tab and doesn't make anyone mad, I leave him to his harmless games. He's not your type, is he?"

"I'm spoken for." Shyvana said softly, looking into the amber liquid.

"You don't seem to have anyone here with you that I can see." The barkeep laughed, smiling at his new patron. Shyvana didn't share his enthusiasm, glancing up at him and then back to her drink. "With eyes that sad, I don't think things worked out the way you wanted." The barkeep frowned, leaning on the bar. "Well lass, you've come to the right place if you wish to drown your sorrows. You'll be in good company if you desire to end up on the floor like our resident drunk." The barkeep nodded his head to the drunken man as he wandered over to a table, slapping backs and proceeding to another table. He tripped over his own feet and ended up on the floor, but miraculously he managed not to slosh even a drop of his own amber brew.

"Is he going to be okay?" Shyvana asked, watching the man struggle back into his chair, the other patrons moving away from the rapidly expanding puddle of mead he had spilled when he missed his mouth. Shyvana had to stifle a laugh as she picked up the tankard and took a shallow sip. The brew was spicy but sweet, burning as it went down. It was warming, and the day of wandering through the city after her fight had left her cold and tired. The ale warmed her from the inside and she felt better already. "It's good..." Shyvana murmured quietly, taking a much longer pull. The barkeep grinned, puffing his chest out slightly as he leaned against the bar, putting on a cheesy grin.

"Best in the city, lass." He winked. "We're famous for our mead here, though we mostly just brew it and send it out. Few people know about this little spot." He patted the bar affectionately. "And don't worry about ole Ralph yonder. He likes his mead, be that on his shirt or in his belly." The barkeep chuckled heartily.

"How odd." Shyvana mused, finishing the tankard off with a single long pull. She dropped it on the bar top, shivering as the spicy ale worked down through her body, warming her from the core against the chilly night air.

"Have another." The barkeep said, filling her tankard with the frothy ale. "On the house."

"Thanks." Shyvana said, exhaling, the single tankard hardly enough to get her tipsy. She pulled the drink closer, but nursed it, deciding to savor this one. "Have any rooms?"

"A few." The barkeep said, nodding. "You alone?" He frowned as a gloomy look settling on Shyvana's face as memories were dredged up again. She dropped her head, clenching the grip on the mug of the metal tankard. "Right, right." The barkeep muttered, running a hand over his chin, moving to clean another mug. "Sorry, force of habit. I didn't mean anything by it."

"No, no..." Shyvana said, sighing. "It's just... bad memories." She took a long pull off the tankard, halving it.

"Sorry to hear that." The barkeep said quietly. "I've got a good room you can use. Clean, but a bit small."

"Sounds perfect." Shyvana said quietly, fishing the gold purse out of her small bag. Much of the weight she carried consisted of her winnings from earlier that day, most of it in gold coin. "How much?"

"Five silver pieces a night, including two meals." He responded, ducking behind the bar for a few seconds. He reappeared, carrying what looked like a lock box, fishing a key for it from his pocket. Shyvana fished a gold coin from her own purse, handing it over to the barkeep.

"Keep the change." Shyvana said, shaking her head as the man began digging through the box for change. "Just give me a refill and do me a favor."

"I'll oblige on the refill, but no guarantees on the favor, lass." He said, eying her cautiously. "Statements like that tend to lead to trouble."

"It's two things actually." Shyvana said, after tossing the last of her mug off. "I'm looking for a man who goes by the name of Talon." The barkeep frowned as he thought, filling her tankard again.

"Here ya go." He said, skidding the tankard onto the bar. He perched a hand on his head, scratching momentarily. "I think there's a character who's in here sometimes that goes by the name of Talon." He frowned, looking out around the bar. "He's not here tonight, oddly enough, he's usually in here for a drink around now."

"That's alright." Shyvana said, shaking her head. "I just have a debt to pay back. Secondly..." She took a sip from her tankard. "Can you keep my presence here quiet if you don't mind?" She took another pull from her tankard. "I don't fancy any more attention than I already have."

"Aye, I can do that." The man said, grinning, his mustache twitching on his face. "Can't say much for the other patrons, you're already pretty infamous around the city." He grinned, tapping the bar with a finger. "Quite the show you put on, earlier today, taking down Team Blade like that." He chuckled. "Lotsa people were quite salty about their winnings." He shook his head and set about cleaning another mug.

"And you?" Shyvana asked, looking at him, not sure whether to expect another tankard or a fist from behind the bar. The man had salt and pepper black hair, trimmed fairly short, his mustache and goatee hiding most of his mouth, his bushy eyebrows bouncing atop two soft brown orbs. He had gentle eyes, but like everyone in the city, they were also cold and calculating. He'd be nice and polite so long as it didn't put him in any danger.

"I made quite a bit off their losing." He said with a grin. "Paid off some debtors, bought some new tankards, had some extra to take home to the missus." He chuckled again, gesturing to her drink. "Ralph made a bit of coin as well, though he spent it all on mead and whores already." The Barkeep chuckled again, shaking his head.

"It's good to see a friendly face." Shyvana said quietly, staring into her tankard of mead.

"Another?" The barkeep asked, still polishing tankards. Shyvana nodded, letting him top her off. She stared at the foam atop the brew he set before her, contemplating her next course of action. She had no desire to stay in Noxus and become a gladiatorial beast for the enjoyment of the city, but there was a small part of her that enjoyed it. She enjoyed the attention it brought her and the joy she felt cutting men down; it was exhilarating.

Shyvana shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "Jarvan would be ashamed..." She muttered before tossing off the tankard of mead in a single go.

"You alright, lass?" The barkeep asked, eying her with trepidation, her cheeks reddening.

"Just... tired." Shyvana muttered. "Thanks for the mead." She pushed her stool back and got to her feet.

"Of course." The barkeep said, keeping an eye on her. He handed her a key, which Shyvana took and pocketed. "Top of the steps, bear left and you'll see more steps. Up those and towards the back. Your room is on the left. Bathroom is across the hall."

"Thanks." Shyvana said, nodding, heading to the stairs, picking up Jarvan's lance and making her way up the narrow steps. She found the room with little trouble, opening the door, stepping in, and closing it behind her. She sighed heavily, dragging a chair over and setting it against the door. It would hold short of anyone destroying the entire door to get in. There was a basin and a pitcher of water off to one side of the room, and Shyvana set the lance down against one of the walls.

She shed her armor, stacking it against the far wall, stripping down to nothing. She immediately felt lighter, stretching her arms above her head and stretching her back. She paused, looking down at her body, examining the growing collection of scars she had. The worst of them were the three long, parallel scars that ran up her hip and onto her stomach from where Kampf had bloodied her. Jarvan had sewn the wounds shut, though they were still jagged despite the man's caring touch. Shyvana touched the scars gingerly, pressing her hand to them and closing her eyes, hugging her other arm across her chest, letting her mind wander back to Jarvan. She could already feel tears beginning to well at the corners of her eyes, but she ignored them, brushing them away and trying to remember the good things about the prince.

An image of the man formed in her mind, his gentle blue eyes looking down at her, his hand resting atop her head, a grin upon his face. She had faced much hatred from human and dragon alike through her short years, and despite his kindness, the resentment that came from their two races, be it the fear and hatred of dragons by the humans, or the smug dismissal of the humans by dragon kind, Shyvana had yet to escape it. She faced hatred from everywhere and Jarvan the only man aside from her father, human or dragon, who had truly shown her acceptance and kindness. He had become a ray of sunshine in a darkening world, pulling her back from the brink of damnation by her own anger.

Shyvana shivered, thinking back to when she had first met Jarvan. He had come at a point where Shyvana was becoming desperate for an out, her mind wandering to despicable possibilities, as she was facing a life completely alone as an outcast and a freak. She had been on the brink of starvation and dehydration, her own mortality facing her straight in the eye when Jarvan appeared. It was then that she had gained a new purpose in her life and realized that there was still plenty to live for. She owed it to Jarvan to at least use her life to the fullest, and Shyvana intended to. She would slay the monsters in human guise who had killed him, and then she would slay the beast who had killed her father. From there she had no idea what the world could hold for her, but she had power. She flexed her hand, the blue scales hardening over her clawed hand. She was getting better at controlling the transformations and using them at will. It would serve her well to do so in the future.

Shyvana shook her hand, the pale skin and nail returning to normal length, the dragoness frowning as she did so, shivering, the sensation of feeling her body change something she would never get used to. She yawned, covering her mouth with one hand, raising both arms above her head, stretching languidly. She looked at her reflection, eying her body. She had seen many different females in her time here in Noxus, but she had yet to see another female as pretty as herself. She cupped her breasts, frowning as she did. She had always wondered what purpose they served, but she had seen Jarvan sneak glances at them before. They may have served as nothing more than tools to attract mates, but she had never had the chance to ask her father nor Jarvan about them. She yawned again, returning her gaze to the mirror. There was dirt all over her face, her cheeks slightly red with the mead she had downed before. She poured some water into the basin, snapping her fingers, a small flame appearing as she lit a candle that hung on the wall. She looked into the mirror, frowning at what she saw.

She had the same features, nothing had changed, but there was a malevolence there hadn't been there before in her eyes. The hatred she carried for those who had stolen Jarvan from her was still rife in her heart, and it showed in her face. Dark circles marred the underside of her eyes, giving her a demonic cast to her face. Her eyes were a darker, bloodier red than she had seen only weeks before when she and Jarvan had been stuck in close quarters in a room not much bigger than this. Her hair was pulled back, a thick braid falling over her shoulder. She pulled the braid around, running a hand along it, ending at the ribbon that she had been given by Mara. She pulled the ribbon from her hair, balling it in her hand, throwing it against the far wall, leaning against the table, clenching her eyes shut as they clouded over, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Blood covered her hands, dried and flaked, almost black against her pale skin. She dunked her hands in the water, scrubbing and scratching at the blood, trying to get it off her hands. The water turned red as she broke her own skin, blood pouring from her hand. She crashed backwards, falling to the ground as tears rolled down her face. The haunting image of Quinn, dismissing her as a beast, haunted her vision. Ferron had accepted her at first, but as soon as he had seen her true side, she had become nothing more than an animal to him. She was a freak, a beast in the eyes of the humans, a creature to be outcast. She clamped her hands to the side of her head, a sickening feeling in her stomach telling her that Mara and Ferron had met some horrible fate because of her. She rocked on her knees, clutching the wound she had inflicted on her hand, the blood dripping down her body.

"Everything... everything I touch is bloody." Shyvana croaked, tears falling down her face. She stood slowly but as she turned her ankle rolled. Shyvana hissed and gasping as she tumbled to the ground, tears dripping onto the floor, running down her face. She struggled to her feet, wiping the tears away from her face on her arm, pulling herself towards the bed slowly. She stumbled towards the bed, ripping part of the hem of her tunic off, wrapping it haphazardly around her hand where she had left a deep mark in her skin. She cast the rest aside, tripping over the sideboard of the bed, collapsing onto the woolen blanket.

"What a mess I've become without you, my prince..." Shyvana breathed out softly, tears stinging her eyes. She slowly drifted off to sleep, letting the darkness overwhelm her, tears still wetting her pillow as she drifted off to a fitful rest.

"What's gotten into you, calling me out in the middle of the night like this?" A hulking shadow rumbled, appearing from a side alley. The massive, fur shrouded shadow paused, ducking back into the alley way as a roving guard passed on his patrol route, a dejected sneer gleaming on his chops. He had massive white teeth hidden within a pointed snout, and red eyes gleamed from the darkness. "Fascist pigs."

"Shut your trap, I have a job." A second voice said, growling. "Besides, you're nothing more than a mangy dog, yourself."

"Do not think that just because I am no longer human that I do not still maintain some semblance of my humanity." There was a guttural growl. "I may be part beast now, but I can still use those senses to my own devices."

"Right, right..." The second voice said, his hands raising peaceably between the two figures, masked by the shadows. "My bad."

"My fee?" The first asked, holding out a hideously misshapen, clawed paw. Dark fur poked from under the edge of the cloak, golden gauntlets covering much of his hands, razor sharp claws gleaming in the dull moon light.

"Here." The sound of a bag of jingling coin trading hands could be heard. "Your target is a young woman staying at the Drunken Dagger. Red hair, bad temper, a fondness of striking people in the face."

"You need me for a simple job like this?" There was a sneer in the first's voice, but the second man reared his head back and bellowed a sharp forced laugh, his voice echoing around the streets. "Surely the 'Glorious Executioner' doesn't need my help to capture a single girl?"

"Bite your tongue, manhunter." Draven snapped, pulling his hood back. "She took out three members of my Blade Team today like it was nothing. She's not human. I don't know what she is."

"Oh?" The beast-hunter said, now paying attention. "Another half beast? I suppose this could prove to be interesting, indeed."

"Just don't kill her." Draven said, grinning. "That's where Draven shines..."

"I will do my best." The first rumbled. "But now... It's time to hunt." He disappeared into the darkness, taking Draven's gold with him.

"And now for my part of this show." Draven said, grinning. He turned away, pausing as the other disappeared into the night, the swish of a tail disappearing down the alley all that could be heard. "Beware, you little hussy, I'm coming for you. You have to pay for what you did to my beautiful face."